Blood and Chocolate
by Kat-Knife
Summary: I watch in silence as everything and everyone that I love is destroyed. I watch in detached horror as they pry my fingers off his cold, dead corpse, his eyes wide open, the emerald green now lifeless. I watch calmly as they march me to the throne room, towards him, the monster of every fairytale. I have nothing to live for, except for the little boy clinging to my leg, trusting me.
1. Prologue

"Save yourself..." He whispers, his voice dry and hoarse, his eyes a dull emerald green, "Live...you have to live for him." He gestures weakly to our son, who is leaning against my side, sleeping fitfully, his thumb in his mouth, his only source of comfort in the hell we currently reside in.

"Harry, please." I say in desperation, "You can't-you can't leave us, me!"

He tries to chuckle, his body wincing in pain as he moves, his body writhing as great, rasping coughs overtake him. His head is currently propped up in my lap and my right hand is encased in his rough hands, both of them resting on his chest, while my other hand is wrapped securely around our son's thin form.

"You know what is going to happen Ginny, we both do." Harry says weakly through his cracked, dry lips, squeezing my hand as his coughing subsides, "I'm not going to make it out of here alive. He's going to kill me soon. He was just toying with me before."

"I-I know." I choke out as my sadness overtakes me and tears spill down my face.

"You have to live for both of us...be strong for James, give him all the love and happiness I couldn't." He says softly, looking at our son with love and warmth in his eyes.

"I-I will." I say in a broken voice as I extract my hand from his embrace and try to fruitlessly brush away the tears that stream down my face, "I will make sure he grows up _knowing_ who his father is and w-what he sacrificed for him, for us."

He smiles softly at me and tenderly brushes his hand across my cheek, swiping away a stray tear. There is nothing left to say between us. We both know that this is _it_. The end is near and there is nothing that we can do about it. There is no more time for declarations of love or meaningless sentiments. I know that he loves me and James with all his heart and he knows that I will never love anyone as much as I love him. We wait in silence as the sun rises, filtering meager bars of light through the thin, wooden slats of the tiny opening at the upper corner of our cell. The whistling is what startles us into wakefulness. I can hear them coming, accompanied by a man with a slight limp, cheerfully whistling a tune that seems to embody happiness and hope, but I know that it is false hope, there is no one coming to save us, there is no one left to save us.

The man limps into view, still cheerfully whistling the damningly happy tune at the top of his lungs. He is followed by a group of escorts, their robes swishing around their ankles noiselessly just as they stop and turn to look inside our cell.

"Well, here they are!" The man who was previously whistling says, gesturing to our pitiful forms inside the cell.

"Open the cell and take them out." A woman steps forward from the group and tells him impassively, "Our Lord wishes to see them."

"Of course." The man says, nodding his head respectfully when she says 'Our Lord'. He takes out his wand from the depths of his voluminous robes and taps the lock on our cell door. With a burst of green light, the cell door opens and the group of Death Eaters come inside the cell. The woman impatiently hauls me off the floor and to my feet, while another man hoists Harry off the floor. Harry, weak from days spent in starvation, staggers dizzly before the man catches his elbow and ushers him out the door. The woman who had hauled me up from the floor tries to drag me through the cell door as well, only to be stopped by the extra weight attached to my leg. I look down and my heart breaks as my beautiful, innocent boy looks up at me mutely, his large brown eyes silently asking 'what is happening?' The woman notices him as well and reaches down and impatiently tugs my leg from his grasp. She takes my arm and tries to shove me through the cell opening, only to be stopped yet again by a childish voice.

"Mommy, where goin'?" Jamie says frightenedly from his place on the dirty, dungeon floor.

"P-p-please, c-can I-I take him w-with me?" I turn my head and stutter out to the woman who is holding my arm in a vice grip. She just stares at me blankly and looking into her cold, blue eyes, I know that she is going to say no, but then she surprises me, "Come." she gestures to Jamie. He hurriedly scrambles off the dirty floor and runs to me, catching my right hand in his small one.

The woman marches us through the cell opening and out into the bleak corridor of Azkaban. We pass rows and rows of cells, all of them empty. We are, or were, the only rebels left, the rest were killed a long time ago. There is no one left to defy the rule of Lord Voldemort. He is now the ruler of what is left of a war-ravaged kingdom. Everyone who had defied him died a painful death and now I know that we'll share the same fate.

I close my eyes as we walk through the entrance of Azkaban and into the harsh, white sunlight. Harry told me to escape, but I don't know if I'll have the strength to do what he is asking of me when the time comes, but I know that I have to do what he is asked of me, if not for him, for the sake of my beloved son, born from misery but loved nonetheless. I open my eyes and look down at my son's face and strengthen my resolve. I'm the only one left to do this and I'll do my job to perfection.

We walk to the apparation point and our escort abruptly stops there. She holds her wand in her hand and wraps her other hand even more tightly across my upper arm and concentrates on our location. I know what is to come so I quickly squeeze Jamie's hand to reassure him. There is suddenly a vice grip around my lungs and all of the air is roughly being squeezed painfully out until I know that I'm going to pass out, before it suddenly ends. I stumble and cough a bit as we arrive at our location. I worriedly look over to see how Jamie is doing to see him doubled up and dry heaving. I soothingly rub his back until it subsides. I look up to see that our escort has been coolly watching us the whole time, her hand still wrapped around my upper arm. When she sees that we have composed ourselves for the most part, she steps in front of an ornate, wooden door, complete with lavishly adorned door handles.

I take a deep breath and steel myself. This is the end and I'm ready.

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**A/N: Wow, I'm not really sure where this came from, but here it is so please read and review. If this gets an adequate amount of reviews, I'll consider continuing it and making it novel length.**


	2. Loss

I walk into the hall, my jaw tightly clenched, my eyes cool, betraying no emotion, my right hand reassuringly squeezed by my son's small fingers. As I walk in, my eyes are instantly drawn to the pale and shaking figure of Harry, who, I can see, has been forced to kneel in front of that monster. The monster himself is sitting languidly in his throne, his cruel, scarlet eyes shining with triumph as he looks at the broken form of the saviour of the Wizarding world. He thinks that he has won, that the war is over, but in my mind, it has just begin. There are also Death Eaters scattered around the room, all of them in their dressed in their Death Eater garb, minus the face mask, all of them looking eager for blood to be shed, eager for the bloodbath, which is to come.

When the monster notices that I've walked into the room, he takes in my bedraggled form and then smiles vindictively, his smile turning vicious when his eyes move to my right and takes in the scared expression of my son.

"Ginny Weasley." He hisses out, "How gracious of you to join us and it seems you have brought a guest." He bares his teeth savagely at Jamie, whose eyes go wide in abject fear. He clutches my hand even more tightly but, to his credit, he continues to stare at the monster who has ruined our lives.

"Come, join us." The monster says in false benevolence, gesturing to where Harry is knelt in front of his feet.

Jamie's eyes break contact with the monster's and flick over to where Harry is knelt. His face crumples in despair when he notices Harry's position on the floor. He tries to wrench his hand out of mine and run over to Harry, but he is unsuccessful because I resolutely tighten my fingers around his small hand, preventing him doing so. He looks up at me in betrayal when I don't allow him to run over to his father to comfort him, but I know what the consequences of that action are; he will just be stoking the fire that is already burning bright in the hearts of all the Death Eaters here, the fire fueled by broken dreams, unfulfilled realizations, and lost love. The monster doesn't count in this category, for he has no heart.

"Daddy!" Jamie cries out in his high, childish voice, "I luv you!".

My heart clenches painfully when I hear those words fall from my son's mouth and I have to close my eyes for a few, scant seconds to stop the descent of tears that are threatening to spill down my face. I open my eyes to see that every Death Eater in the room is waiting with bated breath and a sick, excited look on their faces as they wait for their Lord to pass his judgement. The monster seems pleased with what Jamie has said and seems to be waiting for Harry's response because he is looking expectantly towards Harry.

Harry stalls for a few seconds, his face turned towards the ground, trying to hide his sorrow. He finally looks up towards Jamie and quietly whispers, "I love you too Jamie."

At this Jamie's face brightens and he gives Harry a watery smile. The monster seems to be in an indulgent mood, because he hasn't yet commented.

The monster continues smiling for a few more seconds, his eyes flickering between Harry and Jamie, before he speaks again, "Now that all the sentimentalities are out of the way, we can finally begin with the festivities!"

He makes a grand gesture and every Death Eater in the hall draws their wand from the inside of their robes, all of them pointing at Harry. The monster himself, hasn't yet drawn his wand, but I'm sure that he won't draw it until Harry lies on the cusp of his death.

"Begin." He curtly tells his Death Eaters, who seem to know exactly what to do, as they all line up near Harry.

A ball of anxiety seems to have knotted itself in my stomach as I watch the proceedings. I know exactly what is going to happen next and I can't bear to think that Jamie will be a witness to this. I look down at Jamie to see that he is merely looking curiously at Harry. I want to clamp my hands over my son's eyes but I know that the monster will never let me do that. He wants Jamie to see the torture that his Death Eaters will inflict upon Harry.

The first Death Eater in the line points his wand at Harry and gleefully yells out, "_Crucio_".

I gulp and steel my face and heart against Harry's screams, which permeate the air. I look down at Jamie to see that his face has gone white with shock and horror. He, thankfully, isn't trying to pull his hand out of my grasp anymore, but I fear his silence. I squeeze his hand to show him that he isn't alone, but he doesn't respond, his eyes riveted to his father.

Harry continues to writhe in pain, his screams filling the silent room. I look at the monster to see his face turned towards Harry, his mouth turned into a smirk, his blood red eyes reflecting the delight that he feels listening to Harry's anguished cries.

After what seems like an eternity, the Death Eater steps away from Harry and cancels the spell. Harry remains lying on his back on the ground, panting as he tries to gather himself. Another Death Eater steps up to Harry and calmly yells out, "_Diffindo". _Shallow gashes appear on Harry's torso, slicing his dirty shirt in the process, as the caster of the spell continues to move his wand in a lazy manner. Blood spurts from the many slices that the Death Eater is carving into Harry's skin, but Harry just grits his teeth and tries to bear it, a whimper escapes his lips when the Death Eater carves out a particularly deep incision diagonally across his chest. The Death Eater, like the one before him, abruptly stops and steps away from Harry.

Harry's battered body lies on the ground, his eyes tightly shut behind the broken frames of his glasses, hands clenched at his side, his blood slowly seeping through his shirt and dripping onto the white marble floor that he lies on. The only indication that he is still alive is the slow rise and fall of his chest. Another Death Eater steps toward Harry and the vicious cycle resumes. "_Furnunculus", "Engorgio", "__Sectumsempra", _the onslaught continues, by the time that the last Death Eater in the line steps up to curse Harry, Harry's body is a mangled jumble of boils, engorged appendages, and twisted limbs.

It hurts me too see him like this but I knew that this was going to happen, I can't imagine the horror and pain that Jamie must be feeling to see his father, his hero, lying like a broken doll on the ground. I look down to see Jamie's face and what I see frightens me. He has fierce look of absolute hate etched on his tiny face, his eyes narrowed and his right hand, the one I'm not holding, balled up into a tight fist. I follow his line of vision to see where this hate is directed at, to again be surprised; his look of hate is directed at Harry. My breath catches in my throat and my vision narrows so that all I can see is the loathing and revulsion that seems to be permanently carved into my son's face. Jamie looks so much like _him,_ the monster. Panic seems to be clawing at my throat, my breathing hitches and becomes erratic and my vision becomes blurry. I know, I can _feel, _that I will pass out, but I _can't,_ not now, not in front of these vultures.

Someone is tightly squeezing my fingers. I use that as a lifeline to draw me away from the pool of panic that surrounds me. Inch by inch I use that tight hold on my fingers as a rope to calm me and draw me out of my panic attack. I open my eyes to see bright light flooding my vision. I stare at the ceiling for a few seconds before being distracted by someone lightly squeezing my fingers. I look down to see Jamie looking at me in concern. I smile a heart-breaking smile at him, letting him know that it's ok, I'll be ok.

I look back at Harry to see that all the Death Eaters and their Lord are clustered around Harry's body and they are looking at me, some have excited looks on their faces while others look pensive. The only one's expression that I can't decipher is the monster's himself. He's just staring at me and Jamie, his face closed off, nothing in his blank expression that indicates what he's thinking about.

Without breaking eye contact with me and Jamie, he draws his wand and points it at Harry, before uttering the words that ruined my life and subsequently, Jamie's, "_Avada Kedavra_".

A bright beam of green light floods the hall and races towards Harry in seemingly slow-motion. I watch with bated breath as I count my heartbeats, waiting for the light to hit Harry, '_One heartbeat, two heartbeats, three-_' the light hits Harry squarely in the chest. Harry seems to absorb the curse for a few seconds because the light behind his eyes is glowing with the unnatural green light of the killing curse and I feel my heart beating with hope again, _'Harry is alive, he survived!', _only for it to falter and crash into despair as the light leaves Harry's eyes and all that is left behind is his cold, disfigured cadaver. I keep hoping, _waiting_, _wanting, _for Harry to get up. _'Get up, come on Harry, get up.' _Someone is screaming, I don't know who. I realize that it's Jamie, his high childish voice carrying through the hall and embodying the _pain_, _misery_, and _hopelessness_ that I feel.

There's no one but Jamie and me in our world of despair. I can feel a torrent of savage anger coursing through me, it's surprising and gratifying at the same time. My vision narrows again to only include that monster, the one that took my Harry from me. I wrench my hand from Jamie's and rush at him, knowing that it's a stupid idea, that he has a wand and I don't, that he'll just curse me into silence, but I don't stop and continue running towards him, my teeth bared in anger. To my surprise, no one stops me, they all seem to have been stunned into silence. The monster looks surprised, he makes no move to raise his wand to stop me, his head is tilted to one side and his mouth opened in surprise and bewilderment. Just before I reach him, I do some astonishing acrobatics that I did not know that I was capable of doing and use the marble floor as a launching pad to launch myself at him. I'm much smaller than him but my momentum carries me so that my body hits his with such force that he falls to the ground. I'm oblivious to everything else around me as I wrestle his wand from his hand and scramble off of him, my body backing up so that I'm near Jamie again. Without looking down, I snatch Jamie's hand so that I'm gholding it again and transfer the wand from my right hand to my left.

I point his wand at him, my eyes wide in anger, my teeth pulled back in a savage grin, my dirty, red hair streaming behind me like a flag. I know what I must look like, a madwoman, but I don't care. I point his wand at him and bring up all the anger, hate, and despair I feel at this moment. I bring it all forth and _push_ it into the wand that I'm holding, while invoking the incantation, "_Avada Kedavra_".

A golden white light explodes from the wand with such force that I lose my grip on it and it goes flying into the air. The light blinds me, filling my senses. I clutch Jamie's hand tightly in mine, drawing his body into me, so that he is sheltered from the storm that seems to have sprung up in the hall. The magic seems to build and I feel pain mounting, I can't hold all of the magic inside me and it bursts out again, in another wave of bright, golden light. The pain doesn't go away, it continues building and just when I think that I'm going to explode, I mercifully pass out, Jamie's body huddled under mine.

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**A/N: I hope you were sufficiently intrigued by this chapter! Please remember to read and review and a big thanks to jakefan and Diane Potter for** **reviewing the prologue of this story. Ciao! :) ****  
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	3. A Proposition

I sigh in boredom and click my fingers against the glass counter top, painfully aware of the fact that it's only eight o'clock and there are still four long hours until noon, my lunch break. It's a dreary day in London. It's drizzling unrepentantly outside and fog hugs the ground, forcing would be victims- I mean shoppers- to remain inside their insulated homes, living their dreary lives like the sheep they are. I, of course, quite enjoy the weather, it matches my black mood perfectly, but I would rather be outside, perhaps browsing through the wares of the local vendors in Knocturn alley, not stuck inside "Borgin and Burkes", working.

The clinking of the bell situated at the top of the shop door, shakes me out of my thoughts. I turn to look quickly at the customer and internally narrow my eyes in suspicion. So he has come at last. I thought he would. He waves his wand over his clothes, muttering a drying spell before turning to look at me.

"Ah, Tom Riddle, just the boy I wanted to see." he says, looking at me with satisfaction, his dark eyes alight with an internal glow that speaks of a refined snootiness.

I catch the insinuation as soon as he makes it.

'Boy, am I?' I think to myself, 'How many boys do you know Orion Black, that can make you see your worst nightmares without raising their wands?'

"Mr. Black, a pleasure to see you." I say cooly, smiling a bland smile, straightening my spine and using my height as an advantage to tower over him, effectively looking down at him, "What can I do for you this fine day."

He hesitates for a moment, almost as if he's finally realizing that he is not the one in control here, almost. The moment passes and he returns to his arrogant self. "I have a few...objects here with me that would be considered...'questionable' by Ministry standards to have in my home at this current time. You know how much security has been tightened and how paranoid the Minister has become now that Grindelwald has effectively taken over Germany."

I nod my head in agreement at his assessment, already knowing what he wants me to do.

"...I was hoping that you could...take care of these items for me." he finishes, looking a little worried.

"For a valued customer such as you, we at " Borgin and Burkes" would be willing to extend our utmost services to you." I smile like a shark, displaying my canines, knowing that I have him eating out of my hands.

"Of course, thank you, I quite appreciate it." he smiles in relief, mistakenly thinking that I have consented.

"Our price is quite within your budget I believe." I smoothly continue, "Only 500 galleons-"

He interrupts me with a panicked look in his eyes, "Of course, 500 galleons is within my budget, that sounds perfect."

"You didn't let me finish sir." I reprimand him lightly, "Only 500 galleons for each artifact that you wish for us to take of your hands."

"WHAT? That's simply preposterous!" he bellows, quickly morphing from a calm, cool, collected, Pureblood, to a dithering mess.

I smirk triumphantly, sweet victory. This day is turning out to be very productive after all.

"Sir," I cut into his rant, "These are difficult times like you said. We at "Borgin and Burkes" have to think about our safety and reputation as well, and you know that we are the only ones in all of Wizarding London that can provide this invaluable service to you."

"Why you-" he snarls angrily, the remains of his mask falling away to reveal what lies underneath, a desperate man that has nothing to his name.

I know quite well about his financial situation and the strain that the extravagant spending of his wife and daughters has put on his bank vault in Gringotts. The once millionaire is now reduced to begging in a cheap shop such as "Borgin and Burkes" to keep his precious dark artifacts safe from the greedy hands of the Ministry.

He cuts himself off, perhaps realizing from my stance that I'm unmoved by his ranting. His face takes on a bruised purple colour and his fists clench at his sides.

"Why you impertinent little Mudblood!" he grits out between clenched teeth, "You don't know whhat I'm capable of. I could put you in one of those muggle concentration camps and no one would ever miss you. I know about your filthy background. You are nothing, you hear me. Nothing!"

I wonder what it would be like to rip his voice box from his throat? Would he bleed very much? I think so, he seems like a bleeder. He would probably gurgle, trying to talk as blood spurted out from his cut throat, spilling onto the grimy floorboards of "Borgin and Burkes".

"Are you done yet?" I detachedly ask him, quirking an eyebrow in amusement, "I know exactly what you are Black, a desperate man who has no one to turn to. If you don't pay the price for those items, then you know the Ministry raids will gleefully take those items of your hands. You know what you have to do."

I spread my hands genially, smiling again, gesturing exactly who I think should be the person to take care of his dark artifacts.

"I'll have the money and the artifacts for you on Monday." he says stonily and turns to leave before turning around again, "You don't threaten a Black and live to tell the tale. One day you'll regret ever speaking to me like that, and that day will be the last day of your life."

I tip my head in his direction in acknowledgement and say, "I'll be eagerly waiting. Good day."

He bares his teeth in a threatening manner at me before stalking out of the door and slamming it behind him.

"I'm not going to die Black, especially not by your hand." I say quietly to his retreating back, a scowl on my face, "Because I don't plan to die at all."

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**A/N: Sorry for the rather long delay in updates folks. Unfortunately, this story is not my top priority right now, its my other story, "Nightmares". I'll try to update once a month at least, but until "Nightmares" is finished, which will hopefully be by December 2013, updates for this story are going to remain rather slow and sparse. I might be persuaded to update sooner if I get reviews...hint, hint. Thanks for waiting. Ciao!**


	4. New Beginnings

I crack my eyes open as the bright light penetrates my conscience. I sigh deeply, carefully untangling my arms from the warm body on the bed next to me. I look down at the sleeping face of Jamie, his raven black casually tousled, his brow smooth and relaxed in sleep. The innocent sight of him sleeping peacefully makes me feel better, it gives me a sense of home even though I'm decades away from home, away from the people that I love, who are distant memories here.

I smooth down his hair fondly and place a soft kiss on his forehead before crossing the room to stand in front of the dirty window. I squint my eyes, surveying the conditions today, better, it seems. Most of the rubble has been cleared from the alley and the shops are open again.

It seems so terrifying to think that just a few days ago the shops in this alley had been practically nothing but rubble. What's even more terrifying is the thought that Jamie and I could have died. We had been rooming in _The Slippery Mermaid_ at the time and had left our room to go get ice cream for Jamie. He had insisted upon it and I couldn't bear to say no to him, especially after everything, he - we - had been through.

We were just leaving _Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor_ when the bomb struck the eastern edge of _Diagon Alley_. For one moment the air was filled with the sound of screeching metal as the wards fought to hold off the bomb from detonating, alas it was not to be and the bomb exploded a moment later.

As soon as I heard the explosion, I crouched down on the ground, bringing Jamie down with me, thrusting his fragile body underneath mine to provide him with some sense of cover, my war hardened instincts instantly taking over. I felt the ghost of the explosion touch my back and then splinters of flaming wood and glass landed all around us. I felt a few, sharp prickles on my back from some small burning debris, but thankfully nothing serious.

Unfortunately,_ The Slippery Mermaid_ hadn't fared as well as we had and had been obliterated, having borne the brunt of the attack, leaving behind cinders and the faint, nauseating scent of burnt flesh. I had looked down at the rubble and felt a detached sense of sadness. The woman who ran the pub had allowed us to room for free with the condition that I would serve the customers during the day. She had even payed me a small stipend for my services, which had payed for all of our meals. She was a good woman and now she was gone, torn away from the pub that she had loved by the hatred of men.

It had been a stark reminder for me that even though by some miracle I had escaped the wrath of one tyrant, I had only traded it for the wrath of another. The early 1940's signaled the reign of Grindelwald and the atrocities he had committed. My only priority at this point was to stay safe and protect Jamie at all costs.

We are now rooming in _The Leaky Cauldron_, a familiar sight that had reduced me near to tears when I had first layed eyes upon it, a few hours after the blast, when I had decided that it was best to get out of the unrelenting heat and find another lodging now that our old one was no more.

The owner, a man named Barton, was kind enough to allow us to room for free. I worked out an agreement with him. We would be allowed to lodge for free and have three meals a day, courtesy of the pub, as long as I helped out during the day with taking orders and serving patrons. He had assured me that _The Leaky Cauldron_ was better protected than some of the other buildings in Diagon Alley since it served as one of the entrances to the bustling hub of the Wizarding world.

It made me smile, the thought that there were still kind people living in this world, even after all the destruction and wanton cruelty that I had witnessed.

When Jamie and I had first arrived in this decade, the 1940's, we had been traumatized, bedraggled, unable to fathom what had happened from one instant to the other. For some odd prophetic reason that I chose to firmly ignore, the killing spell that Voldemort had thrown at me had misfired or misdirected, I was not sure, and somehow we had landed in the the hustling, bustling city of muggle London, squarely in the middle of a crowd of pedestrians. There had been quite a few panicked cries and then the questions had started. I had stayed mute, my body racked with fear, afraid that this was some elaborate scheme performed by Voldemort to draw out my suffering. The news that the muggle police was coming was what had prompted me to break away from the accusing crowd and somehow stumble my way into _Diagon Alley_. I didn't remember much of the journey. I just remember landing on the steps of _The Slippery Mermaid,_ unable to run any longer. Ruba, the owner had taken me in, no prying questions asked. Perhaps taking pity on my bloody, unkempt appearance.

I look away from the grimy window, my ears detecting the change in breathing. Jamie is awake, lying on the bed, his bight blue eyes looking squarely into mine, a worried expression on his chubby face.

I cross the small room in a few strides and kneel by his side, giving him a bright smile to ease away the lingering worry in his eyes.

"Good morning sleepy-head." I tell him, bending down and kissing his soft forehead.

He smiles a soft smile, rubs his eyes sleepily, his worry forgotten.

The first few days that we had been here, he had asked me the same question every day.

"Where Daddy?" his eyes innocently looking towards me, wanting to know what had happened to the only father, the only family besides me that he had ever known.

I had refused to answer, my throat burning as I struggled to keep my tears at bay. I had no answer to give my child, none. I had made peace with the fact that Harry was gone, that I would never see him whole again, a lifetime ago, when we had been captured and our hope had been savagely squelched by the monster whose looming presence had marred every happy moment in our short life together. I had cried out all the tears that I possible could for the sweet boy, for that is what he was, who had loved me unconditionally, despite all the pain I had caused him. Harry had been nineteen when he had died and to me, he would always remain my hero in chipped rusted armor, beaten but not broken by the hand that life had dealt him.

Now Jamie didn't even bother questioning me, knowing that I would refuse to answer his inquiry.

He sleepily stretches his muscles and then rubs his fists in his eyes, fighting away the remnants of sleep that croons to him.

I grin at him and then say, "Come on sweetheart, let's get you ready for breakfast."

I help him up and escort him to the bathroom, taking care of his bathroom facilities before quickly helping him dress in the second hand robes that Barton had lent us among other necessities.

I throw on my drab gray waitress uniform and with Jamie in hand, tromp downstairs.

Barton greets me with a smile and Jamie with a wink and then hands me a plate of hash browns and fluffy eggs, seasoned with flecks of butter, and a glass of milk.

I hurriedly seat Jamie at one of the corner booths and feed him and myself breakfast. After we're finished, I arm Jamie with a few threadbare toys that Barton scrounged from his attic, the toys that his own children had played with some thirty odd years before. I briskly kiss Jamie's brow and then set wards upon the booth to prevent him from wandering off with my newly scavenged wand.

I had snuck out of The Leakey Cauldron one night while Jamie was fast asleep and shamefully scrounged through the rubble of _The Silvery_ Mermaid until I had found a neat collection of chipped wands and tried my hand with all of them before I had found one that worked for me the majority of the time. It had made me cringe in chagrin but I told myself that I was past the point of shame. My only goal was survival, by whatever means necessary. _  
_

I tie my apron around my waist and the day begins. The customers start strolling in, wave after wave, undeterred by the fact that a bombing had occurred a few days before.

I lose myself in the rhythm of my menial job until lunch time, when I check up on Jamie and feed him and myself, before laying his sleepy head down on the booth and conjuring a blanket for him to take his nap.

Everything is well until four o'clock, when the day takes a turn for the worse. I am scrubbing down the tables, my back bent in concentration as I try to scrub away the layers of filth that has accumulated decades ago, when I hear a familiar voice that chills my blood. The voice of the professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts at this time, Albus Dumbledore.

He speaks warmly with Barton, exchanging pleasantries and well wishes. My heart thumps in my chest as I pray for him to be on his away, to leave without seeing me. Unfortunately, fate does not seem to be on my side, because as I wish that thought Barton calls my name.

"Ginevra," he calls.

With a muttered curse under my breath, I emerge from my half-crouch and turn to face Barton and Professor Dumbledore. I turn around and give a false smile to both of them. Professor Dumbledore surveys me with his electric blue eyes, his hair a deep auburn at this time, a shade lighter than mine.

"This is Ginevra Evans." Barton tells Dumbledore, "She is a muggleborn witch that recently fled her hometown to come to London. The poor dear lost her husband in the war and she only has her son left now."

Dumbledore murmurs a quiet greeting to me his eyes bore into mine, trying to look into my soul and determine exactly what I am. I stare back at him, my back ramrod straight, the dishcloth tightly clenched in my hand, not giving anything away.

"How old are you, my dear?" he finally asks me.

"Nineteen," I expertly lie.

"Ahh," His eyes turn a shade darker, sadness permeating them, "If only you were a year younger, you could perhaps come to Hogwarts and study there. It would shelter you from the war."

"It's alright, sir." I tell him politely, more than happy that I lied. I don't want to go back to Hogwarts and be kept under lock and key. I've had enough of that during the war, "I'm more than happy here in _The Leaky Cauldron _and Barton has been very kind to me." I smile at Barton to show my appreciation while silently willing Dumbledore to leave.

"I'm glad to hear that, my dear." Dumbledore says kindly, his eyes turning away from me to look at Barton, "Barton is a good man."

Professor Dumbledore and Barton fall back into an easy conversation about the state of the war and the casualties that we have suffered and I slip away, unnoticed by the two men.

I slump down into the booth next to Jamie, my heart hammering away in fear. That was a close call, but I think that I passed with flying colours. I need to be more careful from now on. I can't afford to have Dumbledore be suspicious of me.

After the day is over and night has set upon London like a mother embracing its child, I rehash the day's events in my mind and come to a firm conclusion. I can't stay in _The Leaky Cauldron,_ it's frequented by Dumbledore too often and I'm too terrible of an actress to hide anything form the old man. I'll have to start searching for a new residence soon, something in the shadier part of Diagon Alley. My heart sinks at that thought, but I know that it is for the best. With that resolution in mind, I drift off to sleep.

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**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I apologize for the delay in updates and I can't thank you guys enough for keeping me motivated by following, favoriting, and most importantly, reviewing this story. I hope to have the next chapter up soon. Adieu! :) **


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